Natacha G. Mendoza
Lover of art and literature. He lives in the Canary Islands, where he finds the inspiration to write.
Fotografía de MATRIOSKA
I still have that Matrioska that my parents brought from Moscow. I remember the feeling that ran through my little body; a wooden doll, with that cold smile. I liked to open it and take out all the women inside until I reached the smallest one. I lined them up, their faces toward me. Exactly the same, one ate the other, and the other the other, and the little one, that lonely woman. That caused me concern that I did not understand. My mother, to calm me down, said it was the baby, and it would always be empty. But I knew it was not like that, it was a woman, just like the others, the same hairstyle, the clothes, the gesture. Now, in this solitude that I inhabit, I have that little wooden figure on my nightstand. I do not know where the others are stored, nor do they interest me. This tiny woman, who was left alone accompanies me. Somehow I want to fill it with moments, these moments so empty for me.